


I Already Know

by TwisterMelody



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slash, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwisterMelody/pseuds/TwisterMelody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day! Well, Valentine's Night at 221B Baker Street. It's near midnight and case has just been solved. Not being one for such holidays, such obvious sentiment, Sherlock is unsure about just what John wants from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Already Know

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt at writing fanfiction! Enjoy! (I hope!)

The noise outside the walls of 221B Baker Street was considerably quiet in the darkened February night. The story within the walls was much the same. The time didn't matter, as it hardly ever does, but a double homicide involving a missing yacht and a strange kidnapping had taken just over two days to solve, with no time for silly needs such as sleep. Needless to say, both men involved in said activities were exhausted.

Sherlock lay on his bed - no - _their_ bed clad in his loose pajamas. He turned over on his right side to face the still empty half of the mattress, waiting for John to join him. He always waited until they both were in bed to sleep, regardless of the circumstances. Nine months they had been together now, with John moving into his room within two weeks of their relationship.

 _"It'll be better this way,"_ Sherlock had said. _"It'll take you far less time to go down one flight of stairs instead of two every day. We'll end up at the scene faster, and therefore the cases will be solved much quicker, don't you see?"_ John had eyed him suspiciously. _"So this has absolutely nothing to do with you wanting to share a room with me, then?"_ Sherlock's only response was a pair of pursed lips while walking to the kitchen, muttering something about mold experiments. John had just smiled to himself and set up to move his things downstairs.

John quietly flicked off the light and padded across the cold floor to the bed. He lay his head on the soft pillow with a sigh that contained a mix of relief, contentment, and pure exhaustion. His tired eyes softly drew to a close at last, welcoming in the darkness.

Sherlock watched him closely in the dimmed room as the clock ticked near midnight. Today had been special. Not to him, no, today was just another Thursday of any other week. But to normal people? A different story. Everywhere they went there were couples holding hands, laughing, sharing looks. People on the streets had been hurrying to the local stores in a rush, leaving with flowers, candy, cards, stuffed animals, and even expensive jewelry for their significant other. Valentine's Day. _A pointless title doused in anatomically incorrect pink hearts_ , he thought.

The whole thing was dull to him, but what about the man laying beside him? John hadn't uttered any mention of the day throughout their chase through the city streets. But as it is with John Watson, sometimes unspoken thoughts can mean so much. A puzzle he would never fully piece together. Sherlock furrowed his brow in thought. Was that what he had wanted, to be shown affection in such a pedestrian way with store bought objects? Was there disappointment lying just beneath the relaxed expression on his face, hidden somewhere within in the warm tones of his voice that he failed to catch?

He skimmed through his thoughts a few moments more. True, he hadn't been the most affectionate person in the world, but that wasn't expected of him... But was the same true for this particular date?

A decision came to him. Carefully, he leaned over, cupped John's face in one hand, and planted a tender kiss to his cheek. He looked down at his best friend, partner, whatever they could be labeled, with all the intense focus he had, unsure of what he was hoping to find there.

John fluttered his eyes open languidly with a half sleepy smile on his face that was usually saved for late morning lie-ins. The smile quickly diminished only to be replaced with concern from the serious look Sherlock was giving him. Scattered starlight drifting through the window illuminated the sharp angles of his face, giving light to his dark curls and intense quicksilver eyes.

Sherlock's baritone voice finally pierced the silence of the room. "I do love you, you know."

"Yes," John acknowledged softly. "I know you do." He paused, wondering just what he was getting at. "What's this ab-- oh for Christ's sake did you use my ties for another experiment? Because I really-"

"No," Sherlock interrupted. "I did not. Besides, it was a success and you got a few new ones out of it."

John pursed his lips, but nothing came to him. They had just solved case and ended up back at the flat, trying to contain their laughter at the look they had just seen on Lestrade's face as they left the crime scene. Everything had been fine, more than fine, actually.

"What's the matter?"

Sherlock sighed and dramatically flopped back down to the mattress.

"You are," came the only reply.

"I am?"

"Yes." Sherlock scooted over and curled up at his side, hiding his face from view. "It's you. Not just you, of course. It's this whole Valentine's Day nonsense." He drew out the title, not attempting to hide the disdain in his voice, and not really caring to delve much further into his explanation.

John pondered for a moment before wrapping his left arm around Sherlock, hoisting his head up onto his chest. Soft ebony curls tickled against his chin.

"I didn't know we were celebrating," he replied simply.

"We're not, obviously," Sherlock started into a tirade. "I don't understand why normal people get into a frenzy over this day and gorge themselves on chocolate. It's hateful, really. Though I suppose we know someone who does that anyway, regardless of the calendar." John chuckled at his small jab at Mycroft. "Flowers everywhere, as well. It's ridiculous, John! I hope the pollen attracts massive swarms of bees and half the city ends up with a sting." He paused briefly, scooting into a more comfortable position, draping his left arm over John's chest. "That is, of course, unless you want..." Sherlock trailed off.

"No," John laughed. "God, no."

"So we're not, then."

"It would seem not."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Alright."

John carded his left hand through the detective's hair once, before letting his index finger trace along his side.

"I've always found Valentine's Day a bit overwhelming and commercialized," he admitted.

"You've celebrated before," Sherlock pointed out to him.

"Yes, that's true. But, only really because it was expected of me," he added. "I figured you wouldn't care for it, and neither do I, so why even bother?" Sherlock hummed in response. The wind rattled lightly against the window, but the two paid no attention. They had sank into the comfort of their shared warmth.

 _Not upset, then. Relieved, a bit. Good._ Sherlock felt the tension leave his body with every soft whisper of John's fingertip along his side, tracing out shapes of all sorts.

"Besides," he started again. "I think it's ridiculous to set out one day of the year to remind everyone to tell their significant other that they love them. If someone is in love, they should let that person know constantly, not just one day."

 _Oh._ Sherlock's chest promptly sank to his stomach. Those little words weren't said as often as they probably should be. Such a simple sentiment that still sometimes felt awkward rolling off of his tongue, that is, until John would smile and it would all be fine. He still wasn't a man who expressed emotion easily. It wasn't that he couldn't, the passion through his veins is more than obvious in his work and the notes that come from his violin. It was there in every touch and soft nip and laugh the two shared. Saying the words, though, that took more effort. It never felt like he was giving John enough. The thought came creeping in that perhaps he wasn't.

"You deseve that," Sherlock murmured quietly after a few minutes of silence. "To be told constantly."

The tracing was immediately replaced with John's hand rubbing his back reassuringly.

"I know you love me," John responded. "I don't need you to tell me all the time or even every day to know that. You let me know with other ways. _Constantly_."

Sherlock lowered his eyebrows, thinking. "How so?"

John's fingertip resumed the position along his side, gone back to tracing.

"Well," John started out a list for him. "I know you love me when you keep your experiments away from the leftovers, for one. I know you do when you actually tell me the plan _before_ we get out of the cab, now. I know when you actually go shopping yourself and come back with something edible, not poisonous... Though sometimes, I'll admit, it's both." John's voice vibrating though his chest created a calming effect on him. Sherlock chuckled lightly, but he wasn't finished quite yet. "I know when I mention something in passing and you go out of your way to do it for me, and -"

"Like the ashtray, you mean," Sherlock interrupted, as it was the first example to stick out.

"Yes," John answered simply before continuing. "I know when you willingly watch telly, curled up on the couch with me. I know because I'm the one you trust the most at crime scenes, and everywhere else. I know when you take the time to read my blog, no matter how much you complain about it."

A smile spread warmly across Sherlock's lips as he buried his face farther into John's chest. The constant thrum of the steady heartbeat was literal music to his ears; a beacon of reminders in the dark of the night.

"I know because you don't treat me like everyone else we've ever come across, but as more of an equal. I know from the looks you give and the way you act towards me, especially while we're out in public, you jealous bugger," he teased.

"Hmph." Though it was true, Sherlock wouldn't admit it. Not now, anyway.

"And I know because you'd do absolutely anything for me." John nestled his head down a bit, Sherlock's curls playing along the tip of his nose. "You don't need to tell me all the time, I already know," he murmured softly.

Sherlock tightened his arms around John's torso, immensely happy.

"So," Sherlock started. "You wouldn't rather have a normal life?"

John paused briefly. "Well, I suppose it would be different, wouldn't it? A clean house, no bullet holes in the wall, no one rearranging my clothes to _their_ preference, no iminent danger most of the time, a bit of privacy, as well."

Sherlock blinked rapidly in a small panic.

"But," John added. "That would imply that I would leave this life behind, and that I'd be with someone else. And even though you can be an annoying git sometimes-"

"And you can be utterly blind sometimes," Sherlock added in an almost irritated voice.

"Yes, alright. But, my point is - I don't want _that_. I want _this_ , what we have already. And, to be honest... I _need_ you."

It was a rare thing for John to admit that, but in reality, Sherlock needed him, as well. Sherlock nodded twice, knowing John would correctly interpret it as it was meant - 'me too.' They were two halves of a whole, always completing each other. The good doctor's finger was still lightly dancing along his side when a realization finally came to him. He lifted his head to face John.

"Think you're clever, do you?"

Realizing Sherlock finally caught on, he smiled. "Of course."

They weren't random shapes he'd been caressing through his shirt, they were, in fact, words.

"Was it really necessary to use lyrics from," Sherlock deliberately stopped to scrunch up his face "a _Beatle_?"

John opened his mouth but shut it promptly, keeping words from escaping.

"And how did you know that, Sherlock 'I don't care for trivia' Holmes?"

He lay his head back down where it belonged, over his heart.

"Oh please, I know you, John. Predictable, really. I know your favorite music, therefore favorite band, and of course preferred member of said band. It wasn't a far leap."

"Yes, but that could have been any set of lyrics," he acknowledged. "How did you know?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, not very willing to share. "I'll leave you to your deductions."

"Hmph. At least the message got through, then." John's hand threaded slowly through his hair again. "You know that I love you as well."

"Of course I do, I'm not an idiot! Any fool could see that."

"They might _see_ but not _observe_ ," John teasingly mocked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes even though John couldn't see his face. He soon felt John's arms close protectively around him and lips upon his nest of loose curls. It was a tender gesture there he enjoyed no matter the moment, as John had told him quite a few times before, _"This is as close as I can get to kissing your mind."_

Sherlock sighed in contentment. "Does this mean I don't have to buy you overpriced chocolates?"

"No," John laughed. "But you do have to do one thing for me."

"Mm? And what would that be?"

"You've got to let me sleep!"

Sherlock smiled once more as he tightened his arms around John's torso again. This is where they both belonged, always together, always protecting, love evident between them both. Sleep quietly fell upon them. Softly, happily, they drifted along through a dream together.

**Author's Note:**

> There you have it! Also, the song I was alluding to is "My Love" by Paul McCartney. Just had to throw in a bit of extra fluff, as John's musical tastes match my own... At least in this fiction! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
